Assassin
by KorvusIgnos
Summary: Take an overshadowed girl with four brothers. Give her fencing lessons. Have her move to Arizona. Let her swim in an enchanted pond. Have her end up in ME. Get Aragorn to rescue her. Have her spend five years waiting to thank him. Let this be her story.
1. Prologue

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

For the first time in my life, I didn't feel over-shadowed by my brothers. True, I still wasn't good at most sports, my motivation was still almost non-existent, and I still wasn't "popular" or "cool", but I was fine with that. But when my mom allowed me to take up fencing, I had become very excited. And here I was, five months later, winning championships all over the state, fully paid for by my fencing club, and making loads of friends with my same interests. And tomorrow was my fourteenth birthday. I was certain my mother had something special planned, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

**The Morning** arrived. I felt…different somehow. I could have sworn I sensed something was going to happen, something exciting. I got up and dressed as always, and went downstairs to eat. My mom came in and announced "I have a very special surprise for you!" I sat there, waiting for her to tell me what it was. I sat there some more because she was silent.  
"What?" I asked finally.  
"You're going to live with your father for a few years. At his ranch."  
I was speechless. My father, I knew, had a ranch in Arizona, where he bred horses. I love horses. "How long?" was all I was able to get out.  
"As long as you want. I was thinking something like three or four years. Your father agrees."  
"Dad agrees? With you?"  
"It's for you, Hun. You know you'll love it there. You love the heat so much; you're so odd. Not that that's a bad thing," she added reassuringly. "You're just different. Different is good sometimes. I know you won't do things just because everyone else is."  
'**That is a good thing.**' I thought. '**A very good thing.**'

That's how I ended up on a ranch in Arizona, which is how I ended up—well, you'll see.  
A few weeks after being there, my dad showed me an interesting thing. It was a lake, but oddly enough, it hadn't dried up in the heat like the rest of the lakes and ponds. I knew immediately I must investigate it. The next day, I went swimming in it, with all my clothes on (I don't like peeping toms, who does?). As soon as I jumped in, I knew something was wrong. I say "wrong" because that's what I thought at the time. Looking back—well, you'll see…


	2. Strider

Reviewers: Much thanks! I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but this is a looong chapter and I've already partially started the third. Yay! Much productivity. Also, if this ever actually DOES get to be a romance 'ship fic, it will happen much later and very towards the end. And not with anyone who's like 5-bajillion years older than her. (Elves, Aragorn, etc. Because that's just sick.) Thank you, and on to your chapter!**

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**Chapter 2: Strider**

I immediately swam right for the top again, but it was too late. I was definitely not in Arizona, and my father's ranch was nowhere to be seen. What was to be seen was a band of quite possibly the ugliest things I have ever seen in my life. I later learned they were called orcs, but right now I was confused, with quite a bit of fear mixed in. First, I noticed I no longer was in a lake, but a river, running quietly along.

And then they spotted me. I was terrified. Their thick broadswords were enough to make me almost pass out. But the ugly things' voices…they stayed in my nightmares long after.

"What is it?" one of them croaked.

"I think it's a girl." another responded.

"What should we do with her?" another one asked.

"Is she good to eat?" a particularly fat one wanted to know.

Now, it was a pretty thin river, maybe five feet wide at the most, but stalling even a little always helps, so I did my best to get to the opposite side of the river. Once there, I did the only thing I could think of. I shrieked. As loud and high pitched as I could. They ugly things covered their ears, and I thought, 'They should hear themselves some time.'

I heard a horse coming up, and I saw a man. He wore clothes that would have been a few centuries out of fashion at home, and though he looked like a common peasant, he wore regality about him as rich women wore their favorite fur coats. The last thing I saw before passing out was his sword going into the hellish beasts and their black blood splattering on the rocks at the side of the river.

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When I awoke, I was lying in an itchy bed in an inn. I hurt all over —did fainting really take that much out of a person? Then I remembered what had happened. I was probably sore from being taken here, most likely on a horse, no car could get over that terrain. I was just lying there, thinking too much like usual, when an odd fat man came in.

"You're finally awake!" he exclaimed.  
I raised an eyebrow at him (I had perfected the technique a few summers before, when I'd had nothing to do), confused. "Who are you, why am I important, and where am I?"

"Sorry, I've forgotten my manners. I'm Barliman Butterbur, and you're at the Prancing Pony, in Bree. I heard you were attacked by orcs."

"Orcs? Oh, you mean those ugly things… Well I think they would have attacked me, but I screamed and this guy came out of nowhere… killed all of them."

The man called Butterbur nodded. "That man's a strange one, and dangerous as well, the one that brought you here. I've heard tales of him…"  
"Then it's good that, from what I can tell, he's on our side for the most part." I frowned. Why would I be thinking of enemies? '**Oh yea,**' I remembered, '**the orcs.**' My thoughts became numerous once more as I put two and two together. '**Ugly baddies… sword-welding, dangerous, apparently good guy…**' It was then that I **knew** I'd seen too many movies. "You've probably guessed I'm not from here. In fact, not even from this world, if I'm thinking right. So tell me, who's the big evil bad guy?"

Butterbur tilted his head slightly, reminding me of a dog not quite understanding something. "So you don't know anything at all of what's happening?"

"Not one bit of it. And I'd be quite happy if you'd tell me."

Just then someone yelled, "BUTTERBUR!" Butterbur quickly apologized for having to leave. "But I'll make sure to have Nob come and tell you. That I won't forget!" He said as he left the room.

I was quite fine with that, so long as someone told me where I was and what was going on… But by the look on Butterbur's face when I mentioned "evil bad guy", said bad guy was very not good, and most likely very evil. And probably not in a "Dr Evil" way either.

As promised, which I later found to be rare with Butterbur, Nob came in maybe half an hour later.

"Mr. Butterbur has told me everything, Miss… well, I don't know what to call you, Mr. Butterbur didn't tell me a name…"

"I must have forgotten to give it. I'm Korialmay (kor-E-al-I-mA capitals indicate long vowels) Arenius (ar-en-E-us), but I usually go by Kori. And you're Nob, and you're here to tell me where I am, what's going on here, and who the bad evil dude is, right?"

Nob looked…astounded to say the least, and I had the faintest impression that the women here must be ignorant gits, or all blondes in hair and brain. "Tha-that's right," he stumbled. "Miss Arenius. So, where to begin…"

"How about, where am I, first off?"

"You are in an inn called the Prancing Pony, in a town called Bree, in the country Shire, in the land of Middle Earth." It sounded almost as if he'd said it in one breath, but he wasn't gasping for air at the end.

"I'd like to know how I got here, but I'm going to guess you don't know that. So who's the evil bad guy?"

"His name is…we do not like to say it…"

"Go on." I encouraged. Poor guy sounded like Hagrid from Harry Potter not waning to say the bad guy's name.

"He is called Sauron," the man shivered at the name as if it were an icicle. "He is an evil creature. All dark things serve him; orcs, goblins-"

"Giant spiders?"

"What?"

"Place like this, all this evil running around, nothing scares people more than giant spiders, he has to have a couple of them, don't he?"

"I suppose…" he said slowly.

"So how'd he get to be evil and powerful? And what's his motive?"

"Well…" He went on to tell me the entire story of the Great Rings and such, which I'm sure you've heard already at least a dozen times. So I'm not putting down in full. "…and now he resides in Mordor."

"With a giant volcano."

"Yes."

"One more question."

"What?"

"What was that man's name, the one that saved me?"

"Around here folk call him 'Strider'." Nob replied uneasily.

"You don't like him?"

"He scares me, Miss."

I laughed. "I think had that sword been pointed at me, I would either be in hysterics or dead right now. Most likely dead unless he took pity on me."

Nob said nothing, but looked at me as if I was crazy. '**Never said I wasn't…**' I thought.


	3. Demise

Reviewers and Other Such Peoples: Much thanks again for the wonderful reviews! This one really only took me so long because I was being lazy and didn't type it up all at once like I should have... I finished writing it in my notebook in like four days... FYI: When she...uh, _swam_ into ME, it was 3013. Hope that clears things up, as it should for those of you who will take the time to look in Appendex B in the last volume of LOTR, or page 1065 if you have the one volume set like me. :D  
And now, on with the show! ...er, story!

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**Chapter 3: Demise**

It had been five years. Five years to the day. I always returned to the Pony that day. Somehow by their wonky calendars it was always Thursday. He was never there.  
Over the course of those five years, I had learned combat, improved and expanded my blade skills, killed a couple hundred orcs, learned to stay away from Mirkwood, done a bit of assassin work, and aged over ten years mentally (and almost as much physically). I had also been spying on a particularly audacious and suspicious character called Saruman, the "White Wizard". There was nothing "white" about what I had observed, but I had never actually caught him doing anything wrong, even if I could've done something about it. Although, there had been another very suspicious looking character, coming and going. Always at night, as if he didn't want to be seen. He wasn't too good at the not-being-seen part.  
That particular Thursday night, a few things happened. The first was my epiphany. I was sitting there, mug drained, thinking. The first thing I thought about was how no matter how much I drank, I never got wasted. Or got smashed, or trashed, or drunk. Or blacked out. After thinking for a while, I came to the conclusion that it was because I wasn't from this world. That was not the epiphany. After the ale-conclusion, I got to thinking about Saruman. The only suspicious person I ever saw was the scraggly man who wasn't good at sneaking. Hang on…that couldn't be right. Sauron had spies everywhere. Unless... You don't need to spy on your...what? Then I came up with it. Ally. You don't need to spy on your allies because they tell you what they're doing, unless you don't trust them. So if Sauron wasn't spying on Saruman, it meant they were in league, and Sauron trusted the wizard. I knew I'd hit something deep. "Traitor," I muttered bitterly. I got up to go back to my room, to mull things over more privately, and was walking past the bar when the second thing happened. Some old, drunk guy grabbed my ass and giggled. I spun around, my hand twisting his wrist, my belt knife against his throat.  
"Try that again," I told him in a calm voice, "and next time, I will not stop my knife." I pushed it in ever so slightly so that a thin line of blood formed, making my point (no pun intended). "Am I clear?"  
The man nodded carefully as not to drive the blade any deeper and mouthed the word "crystal".  
"Good," I said, and pointed the blade at the other men there. "Let this be a lesson to you: don't mess with deadly women. Especially when you're drunk. A pleasant night to you all." I said the last sentence as cheerfully as I could and with a spun-sugar smile. They looked about to faint. Inside, I was laughing at the poor idiots.

Back in my room, I'd been pondering the Saruman Situation, as I'd titled it, for what I judged to be the better part of an hour, when there was a knock at the door. I called for whomever it was to enter, and in came Nob, looking quite petrified.  
"Miss Arenius, there's someone to see you, but-"  
"Let me in!" interrupted a putrid voice.  
I nodded to Nob. "Do so."  
Nob backed away, and in came the second-foulest creature Id ever laid eyes on. I raised an eyebrow. "A goblin? So far from the mountains? Surely it is not I, a mere human, who brings you thus far from your home?" I said, quite amused.  
"Your skills are legend, even among the goblins. Our king himself praised you highly, even for all of us you've killed." He said this as if he'd had a hard time admitting this, and his voice was little more than a low growl.  
"So you have a new king now, after the incident with Mithrandir and his dwarves?" Sure, that had been before I came here, but couple years back, I went to a place called Rivendell, lovely valley, and a very short person-type thing named Bilbo told all about it, and that his race were called hobbits.  
The goblin actually did growl at that. I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Who, where, and how much?"  
Smelly creature gave me the ugliest smile and said, "His name is Aragorn. They say he favors this inn, 'specially 'round late September. 250 gold pieces."  
I thought about it. 250 gold. I could get a new sword, some blades, a new cloak… That was good money. But I wasn't about to say yes. Not yet.  
"Who is it that offers this rich sum, all for one man?" I asked, thinking I knew. I was right.  
"Lord Sauron." Even he seemed afraid of the Dark "Lord". By then I knew I wouldn't do it anyway, but information is worth more than gold, by all rights.  
"And why is this man so important that your Lord pays so dearly one who would kill him? What is he, a god of some sort?"  
"The Lord has some…suspicions about him. Will you do this?"  
I stood. "I think, sir goblin, that it is very, very lucky for you that it was orcs and not goblins who attacked me when first I came here, or you would have been dead before opening your mouth. I tell you this: I will do nothing for that cretin of a Lord. But I have one more question, and you will answer me or you will not leave this room alive." I too had a suspicion of the Aragorn. "What aliases may this man walk under? What else is he called?"  
The evil thing sneered at me, but I could tell he was frightened. A wise thing to be. "I believe," he said mockingly, "that around here they call him 'Strider'." He turned for the door, then fell, dead, with my slimmest throwing knife in his skull. Slim, but strong, it was, and usually did the job when I wished to kill someone discreetly. Like the goblin. I walked over to the corpse, placed my left foot on the back of his neck, and pried my knife out. Lucky for him he was dead, for that would've hurt very badly, sure as night follows day. Then I sat back down and began to clean it off.  
I was almost finished when there was another knock on the door. "Enter," I told the knocker.  
It was Nob again. "Miss, what ever happened to the-oh." He spotted the goblin. "What did he want?"  
I sighed. "Same thing everyone wants from me. Somebody dead."  
"Who?"  
"Strider."  
Nob nodded in understanding.  
"I think I'm right in believing that our friend Goblin has quite a large sum of gold on him. If you check for me, I'll give you half."  
Indeed, friend goblin did have such a sum, more than he offered me, in fact. Greedy little git. But an information giving greedy little git. I now knew where and when to find Him. Unfortunately, the "when" part left me with five months to spare. Oh well. Saruman could use some checking up on. Traitor-bastard.  
"I plan to leave in the morning. Quite early, I should like to think. I would consider it a personal favor if I was not allowed to sleep past noon, or really even past ten-thirty. And I forget those who do me personal favors with as much ease as I forget those who save my life." He knew I meant the man I'd spent the last five years trying to thank. He also knew (or should have known) that while tracking down Strider-or Aragorn, the goblin had called him-was about as easy as a blind man swatting a fly, Nob himself was always here, and I knew where to find him. And of course there was the subject of the 200 gold pieces he'd just obtained due to my "generosity" (aka, laziness), which would equal out to about 550 US dollars. Although, of course, he had no idea what US dollars even were, so he had no need to worry about that (but the ancient-ness and quality of the gold would most likely make it worth double that sum, to give you an idea of it).  
Nob nodded and left the room. I was asleep before my head fell.


	4. Acquaintance

A/N:

First off; SO SO SO SORRY for taking so long but it truly was not my fault. There was this whole thing with my sister and basically I had my Internet cut off for something I was not involved in at all. So blame my idiotic stepfather, or whomever you want, really, but here is Chappy 4! After some review answers, of course. Gotta keep the people happy. : D

Reviews, Etc.; Thank you for all your wonderful reviews!

Cailean: Thanks for taking the time to give me some CC. I'll address your points as you ordered them. 1. Uh, yea, I probably would, but that's just me. And Arenius is the last name, so no real choice of it for them. Plus, have you seen what those movie stars are naming their kids nowadays? I mean seriously, Pilot Inspektor! Psychos... 2. They said the story became legend and myth. I'm going to use some literary license here and say Nob's family passed the story down.  
3. Um...Kay.  
4. Fixed that, thanks for pointing that out & sorry it took so long (for reasons described above)

Mangolady: Thank you muchly! Yes, I checked pretty much everything out in my one-volume copy to make sure every 2 plus 2 equaled 4, so to say, although some parts involving cannons in this 4th chapter (and in future chapters) are entirely made up. But isn't that the POINT of writing? Of course, humor positively MUST be added, yes. Mostly in her laughing at people.

Everybody else: Keep reading, keep reviewing if you do, or start if you don't (or don't, no matter to me), and thanks for your time!

Chapter 4: Acquaintance

The next morning, Nob did indeed wake me before ten-thirty, and I was very grateful. I get lazy when I sleep too long, and the next task I had planed for myself was not one for laziness. First, I'd pay the Traitor-bastard a little visit... And then maybe see what Ol' Theoden was up to lately. Theoden was the king of Rohan, another country in Middle Earth. I hadn't been to Rohan in a while anyway, and I loved their countryside, so peaceful and calm. And, as I've said, I love horses.  
As I ate my breakfast, I realized that "ally" wasn't a good term for what Saruman was to Sauron. I mulled over it a bit, and decided that "minion" was a better describer. But he was still and always a Traitor-bastard.  
You know how sometimes you dream something, then forget it, but then clues throughout the day make you remember it? That's what happened to me that day. For some reason, a squirrel crossing the trail in front of me made me remember part of it for an instant; a hobbit, similar to Bilbo in looks, but much younger and with brown hair, and a distant voice telling me that I "would meet this being". I had an odd feeling that that had been most of my dream, or many things very similar to it. Such feeling was proven true when I heard the call of a hawk in the distance and remembered a dwarf, young by tell of his beard (which was brown), and the same voice saying the same thing. The same thing was repeated over and over again with different people each time (I guess you could call them people) until I had a small "collection" of them that I supposedly would meet, if .this dream was at all premonitory. They included the dwarf, the hobbit, three other hobbits, an elf, a wizard I recognized, and two men. One was faintly familiar, like I'd seen his relative (I probably had, I'd seen nearly everyone's relative). The other was Strider. The wizard was one I'd heard called a variety of different names, the most commonly used being Mithrandir and Gandalf the Grey. Butterbur liked him well enough, said he was a good man and all, but this Gandalf came often to Isengard (were Traitor-bastard lived). Not a good thing. Maybe.  
The rest of that day, and on for at least six days passed rather uneventfully. I had no more odd dreams or anything. It was almost too uneventful. Almost.  
After the sixth day his damned tower came into view, and by the seventh, I was almost regretting having come. But the eighth day brought me close enough to clearly see the door, and who should be there but Gangle-man (for such I had begun to call T-B's henchman). He was carrying something very round and quite large, big enough so that it just fit the cradle of his arm, wrapped in a black cloth. He seemed both repulsed and enthralled by it. He looked around, not seeing me hidden in the near trees (dumb git), and knocked on the door. It opened, seemingly by itself, and allowed him entrance. After the door closed and I deemed that there was nothing more to see, I climbed across the treetops 'til I found a place out of eyeshot of the entrance to the tower. I jumped down from the tree there. You'd think I'd look at the ground first, wouldn't you? I landed on someone. Aren't I brilliant? I jumped up, drawing my saber, the person I'd landed on did the same with his bow, making me think, "Mexican stand-off." I almost laughed, but then caught a glimpse of his armor under his big, thick cloak (it was still cold, only March), and my eyebrows shot up.  
"A Gondorian? This far north? What the hell're you doing?" I inquired, thinking he looked familiar.  
"Scouting this bastard, what else? Just because Gondor's farther south doesn't mean we're as blind as Theoden is," he replied curtly. "And if I may ask, who are you and what are you doing here"  
"Stop stealing my conspiracy theory, Damnit!" I said, then burst out laughing. "Joking, sorry. I'm doing the same as you." I sheathed my saber and held out my hand. "Korialimay Arenius, assassin by trade, very picky"  
The man laughed as well and shook my hand. "Faramir, Captain of Gondor, slightly relieved"  
I nodded toward his pack; "You have any food on you? I'd be willing to pay for it. It's just that this little visit' took longer than I had expected and I have only bread left besides water"  
"We seem to each be in luck. I have much food and no bread," he said with an odd little smirk on his face. "Coincidence, you think"  
I shook my head. "No such thing, least not for me. Everything happens the way it's supposed to, especially like it does"  
"An odd theory"  
"I have many of those, but that one's not mine. I book I read as a child said largely the same thing. Even had a word for it, called it ka'. It was a make-believe book, but that part of it did make sense." I was talking about a series by famous author Stephen King, and thinking that ka wasn't the only thing is those books that now made sense to me. Everything about other worlds (did not they have tobacco here?), and time being a face on the water (how those years had passed like minutes...), and even everything about the world going...what was it again?  
"Nineteen," I muttered. "Fucked up and nineteen"  
"What?" Faramir spoke, slamming me back to the here and now.  
"Nothing," I said. "Just talking to myself I guess. Do that a lot"  
"The best do," he replied, sounding almost apologetic. "I hear it's a sign of many things on one's mind." I smirked at that; how true it was, how true it was.


	5. Faramir

A/N: Once again, **sorry** for lateness, my stepfather's still being a bastard (I snuck on last time and this time too). Again thanks to those who choose to review, and thanks to all for your time and consideration.

And onward!

Chapter 5: Faramir

And so we ate, and talked. We spoke of many things, goings on and such, and he told me much news of just about everything that was going on. I could, of course, have found these things out in person, but I happen to be a lazy person at heart. It's like they say: you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink. Anyway.  
We happened to get on the topic of family somehow. He asked about my father (very patriarchal place is Middle Earth.  
"We...were separated a few years back. I haven't seen him since." Not quite a lie, but to prohibit further questions on the matter, I asked, "How about yours"  
"We are 'separated' as well, but it's more in the mental sense"  
"Ah. You don't see eye to eye. A-" I looked at him. Something had just struck me. "Do you have a brother"  
"Yes," he said, "Why?" I'd just realized exactly why he looked familiar. "What's he look like"  
And Faramir proceeded to describe the other man I'd seen in my dream. With slight bitterness. He probably didn't realize it himself, it blended with his speech well, like he'd been hiding the emotion enough of his life to ignore it completely, but I noticed it and figured it'd be best to change the topic.  
For some reason, my mouth didn't want to agree. "He'd be older, then?" I heard myself say.  
"Yes," he nodded.  
"Don't you just feel...I don't know..." I tried to find a way to say it.  
"Overshadowed?" he offered.  
"Exactly"  
"Not really"  
"Liar"  
He looked astonished. More that someone had actually called his bluff than called him a liar, really.  
"First, you couldn't have come up with the word if it wasn't on your mind," I said. He nodded, defeated. "Second, I have four older brothers. It doesn't matter how nice they are to me; I still feel that way. Like"  
"Like nothing you can do is good enough," he said, and with more than slight bitterness this time. "Like everyone thinks he's right and you're wrong. Like he'll always be seen as better, even when he isn't. Like everyone will always love him more than you and you can't do anything to change it"  
I smiled, fully realizing who and what he was and whom he was talking about. "Well spoken, milord. Now I'll need to pay you back for that food," I said, rummaging through my pack for some of the gold I'd gotten from the goblin.  
"How did you know?" he asked in disbelief.  
"Besides you just now confirming it?" I smirked. "Because you rant like your father does. Well, excepting that when he does it he always throws something. Nasty habit, really. Here it is," I had found the gold.  
"How do you know my father"  
"I visited Minas Tirith last year. What was it he was yelling about again? Somebody"  
"Mithrandir"  
"Ah yes! Him. I remember now. He was looking for some scroll, wasn't he"  
"Yes, something about 'records of ancient days' was what Father said. Shouted, actually"  
"Hang on..." Mithrandir. He was another I had seen in my vision. "Did you know where he would be going after"  
He smiled. "He is a wizard. Who can say where they travel or why"  
"You're not going to like my next question very much," I said. "But, um, did he say anything to your brother while he was there"  
Faramir practically snorted at that. "No." Then he spoke more kindly, perhaps remembering his great love of his brother. "No, Boromir...he loves battle, but he has little to do with things like lore and music and such. And probably the only thing he'd ever do against our father would be to protect me from him. Father made it quite clear that Mithrandir was not very welcome, you see"  
"Yes," I said. "After all, that was a very lovely plate to throw against a stone wall"  
He gave me an amused look and continued. "I've always liked Mithrandir, however. Truthfully, I think Father's jealous of him"  
"Well of course he is. Who wouldn't be"  
"What do you mean"  
"Put yourself in your father's place. How would you feel"  
He frowned. "I don't think I want to know"  
I laughed.  
"Wait a minute," he said. "I remember you. You were that girl in the hall"  
"-Giggling like mad everytime I heard a plate shatter? Yeah, that was me. And you were the one getting screamed at, like he blamed you or something"  
"He probably did"  
"I remember..." I shook my head.  
"What? What do you remember"  
I smiled apologetically at him and said, "I remember thinking how you looked like a scared little boy. It was an awful thought. I'm sorry"  
"Actually, I most likely did. I've overheard people saying things like that after he's had one of his fits"  
"It's not your fault he's psychotic"  
"Si-what"  
Shit. I'd used an earth-word. I thought I'd stopped that. "It means really strange and possibly crazy." I smirked. "I like to make up words." I actually had done so when I was a small child (or so my mother had liked to tell me.  
He didn't believe me, but he didn't question me either, and that was enough cause for thanks. Instead he changed the subject. Entirely. "So what exactly are you doing here"  
"I told you, I'm seeing what this bastard's up to," I said, jerking my head in the direction of the huge tower.  
"Yes, but why? Obviously I'm here on orders, but what's a rouge assassin doing scouting and such things"  
I didn't like his tone. It was too suspicious. "Truthfully, I'm just killing time. I'm on a self-appointed mission. I've just recently found that my objective will be...quite simple to attain, but not for several months. I have to find something to do, don't I? And seeing as how I've been watching him for a long while, I thought I'd come by and see what's going on. I'm bored, really"  
"You're joking"  
I laughed. "No. I'm not that stupid, I promise you. Were I joking or lying, you'd probably have killed me by now"  
"No," he resolved after a moment, "I don't think I would have"  
I raised and eyebrow. "Really? Could've fooled me. That arrow was almost right against my neck. Had you let it fly..." I winced. "Much pain and most likely death. Not so good for me, but you would have saved yourself some food," I said this last jokingly.  
"You are joking now, right?" he asked skeptically. I nodded, laughing at him.  
"And what about you?" he said. "Are you any good with that blade"  
"What, you don't have news of the north in Gondor? I have killed a great many peop...things with this here blade, most of them evil and none of them very important," I said in a very sardonic voice. I meant what I said, but I said it teasingly.  
"Let's see, then." He got to his feet and unsheathed his own blade.  
"No." I said.  
"Why not?" he laughed. "Scared"  
"Ha! Not hardly. No, I'm just tired"  
"Of course you are," he said sarcastically.  
"I really am! I'm like falling asleep right now"  
"Sure." He obviously didn't believe me. I wasn't lying though, I was really tired.  
"You think what you want, but when I'm asleep in five minutes you'll believe me." I frowned for a second. "How old are you anyway"  
"Why"  
"Well it's just that you're really immature for someone who's older than, say, fifteen. And I know you are, because you'd be a hell of a lot shorter. And...I don't know how to say it... You look old. But that doesn't say it, because you look young too..." I snapped my fingers. "You remind me of the elves. Kind of. Like...you're young but you've been through a lot, and you've learned a lot, you know"  
"That has got to be the single most interesting description of myself that I've ever witnessed." He said, not knowing that in the following year he would hear another description of himself that, while altogether different, would bring his mind back to the strange assassin girl. He would then be compared to Mithrandir, which would make him feel very honored. But for now, he was making fun of how I wasn't asleep yet. "I thought you said you were tired"  
"You sidetracked me. It's not my fault." And with that, I laid down on a cloak-covered rock, pulled my blanket around me, and fell asleep.


End file.
